


Naraka

by Billywick, selwyn



Series: A Shudder Before The Beautiful (Transformers Roleplay fiction) [6]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Angst and Porn, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Sparkmerging, Sticky, so much sticky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 10:13:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7797820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Billywick/pseuds/Billywick, https://archiveofourown.org/users/selwyn/pseuds/selwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>quo fata ferunt: where the fates bear us to.</p><p>You can't take back what has been done. But you can fix it, glue back the broken shards of ruins and hope for the best. The cracks are still there but hope remains. Somehow, some way, life persists.</p><p>In which apologies are rendered and confessions are made. Things are broken and repaired, and life goes on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (This is a behemoth of a roleplay which is loosely based on the happenings of MTMTE. As per usual for my uploaded roleplays, there is a lot of pov hopping. If that doesn't disrupt your enjoyment, I invite you to join our adventure. The parts will be posted in reading order and tagged by which pairing they address.)

Tarn was angry. Sullen. Sulking. Or perhaps just incredibly preoccupied with his wounded pride. Ever since the outpost, Pharma had found the company of his commander grating, tense, almost a chore that he didn’t want to tend to. Even the interfacing had slowed, ground down to near non-existence by Tarn’s mood. 

And Pharma knew exactly where to pin the blame. Overlord. The mech’s designation didn’t get uttered around Tarn, not by Pharma, not by the crew. The way in which the commander prowled around his vessel, steeped in a field so dark it invited no company had everyone redouble their efforts to have everything run smoothly. Nothing should happen to give Tarn pause and reason to focus on anyone. Pharma found himself pulled along by this trend, working quietly, seeing to the sparkling so it wouldn’t make use of its connection to Tarn’s spark. Keep everything calm, and quiet.

But after three days of this, Pharma’s precious patience began to ran thin. Especially as his frame attempted to remind him of the necessity of interfacing during a carrying cycle. 

That was a problem, but it could wait. 

The next point of interest was the trail of the Peaceful Tyranny, finally picked up on the sensors by Vos (as the gunformer would never let anyone forget), their lost, wayward ship complete with mecha who betrayed the DJD’s command.

That was problem number two. And it could also wait, at least until they caught up with the damn ship.

Tarn’s smelly t-cog, however, was problem number three, and completely not avoidable. The stench rose to Pharma’s olfactory senses every night, offending his sensibilities, and he couldn’t bear it any longer, nevermind that Tarn must have been in pain by now with a cog that burned out.

“You need a transplant.”

It burst out of Pharma as soon as he stepped onto the bridge today, on the fourth morning after their departure from the outpost. The terrible trio stilled, turned slightly, wanting to observe whatever Tarn’s response might be. He didn’t take kindly to being told what to do, and even less so by their good doctor. 

Then tension on the bridge was one the trio knew how to navigate -- this wasn’t the first time Tarn sulked, and it wouldn’t be the last. Pharma, however, was different. His role on the ship was different. Whether that made him immune to Tarn’s temper was yet to be seen.

Tarn was seated on his command chair, glaring out at the viewing port. Pharma’s outburst drew a sharp spike from his field. He didn’t look away from the viewing port, but his attention was fully on the medic.

“I will decide what I need,  _ when _ I need it.”

The dismissal was clear.

Vos, closest to Tarn, was hunched enough that his knees were level with his face. His typing had gotten quieter, as he tried to make himself invisible to his commander. Helex, on the other hand, always hungry for the latest drama, was carefully inching himself around to get a good look at Tarn and Pharma. Tesarus pretended to not exist. If he didn’t exist, he didn’t hear what was happening behind him.

Tarn waited for Pharma to leave the bridge. The stench of his dead T-cog was acrid -- burning metals and plastics, the kind of oily that stuck to the back of one’s throat -- but he didn’t seem to notice it, or the discomfort of having one of his vitals be so much hardened slag.

The silence that ensued was only interrupted by the quiet tapping and responsive beeps on the flight controls. No one spoke, waiting to see what would happen. Pharma had not moved further than the door, a solitary figure standing without a place on the bridge. But the medic’s response was coming, and the tension mounted when he finally opened his mouth again.

The authority in his voice belonged entirely to his profession, not to the mech himself. It was not concern that drove him to insisting on the surgery, or so he told himself. It was purely professional anger at such irresponsibility. The frames of the crew were the medic’s concern, his first priority. A lack of self-care was an insult to his position.

“You’re going to do permanent damage to your frame if you carry on with that molten slag in your cradle.”

“Are you questioning me?” A deceptively mild tone. Gentle, almost.

Pharma nearly scoffed, hearing the threat in Tarn’s tone. He was never this gentle in front of the crew, unless he was preparing to be unspeakably cruel. Still. Pharma was here with a reason and he needed to stand by it.

“No. I am giving you medical advice and a warning.” 

“Medical advice I haven’t asked for. You are dismissed, medic. Go to your station, now.” 

Tension inched higher, and Vos was trying to edge away from the impending disaster zone. Helex looked torn between doing the same and egging Pharma on towards his doom.

Another terse moment of silence ticked on between them, Pharma glaring at Tarn, Tarn entirely ignorant of him. Or at least, he didn’t turn towards the glowering medic who seemed to contemplate standing his ground and giving in. And much to the contrary of common expectation, he spoke again, the acidic stench mirrored by the poisonous tone.

“I don’t have the necessary equipment to replace your entire transformation chamber if you keep burning it with the molten core of the cog.” 

_ Bad move _ . Vos was putting more effort into sliding away. If there was one thing the trio knew, it was that when Tarn was mad, you  _ didn’t keep bothering him _ . You let it blow over, until he was ready to be reasonable again. Otherwise, it was like talking to a wall. A wall capable of fucking you up.

“Tesarus,” Tarn said, tone silky. Tesarus jumped, before looking back at his commander.

“Yes, sir?” When in doubt, abandon pride.

“If I give you an order, what do you do?”

“I… obey it?”

“Yes, you do. You obey your commanding officer.” Tarn’s gaze slid from the viewing port, as his command chair swivelled. His field, usually wide and overbearing, was drawn in tight, leaving no hint to his mood. His entire frame was drawn up tight.

“Yet, I am not being  _ obeyed _ right now. Tesarus, what is the standard response to disobedience?”

Tesarus looked at Pharma. “Punishment, sir,” he said softly.

“Punishment,” Tarn repeated. His gaze didn’t stray from the medic at the entrance to the bridge. “ _ Learn to shut up, medic _ .”

His voice swooped into the lethal octave. Not quite enough to kill, but brimming with some of that rage Tarn kept bottled up. Enough rage to floor the surprised medic, who had not anticipated the use of the voice on his spark, not since Tarn’s had left its mark on it. 

Immediately, he doubled over, clenching at his chestplate. Just this small amount was enough to disrupt the calm presence Pharma tried to foster within his spark. And as soon as the pain had his spark stutter and hop out of frequency, the little one attached to it reacted. Concern, blind fear and panic flooded into Pharma, not born of his own systems. The little spark grappled for his, trying to reassure and calm it even as it was gripped in Tarn’s talent.

The conflicting pull on his spark only served to bring more pain into Pharma, who’s undignified groan echoed around the otherwise silent bridge.

“Tarn.. _.please _ .” 

The little spark pushed back hard against the invasive touch on his carrier’s spark, a potent anger filling the green little spawn.

Tarn twitched. His unflappable demeanor was still in place, however, as he watched Pharma kneel in pain. Pharma’s soft plea barely touched on the surface of his field.

“Out,” he said, voice normal once more. “Out,  _ now _ .”

And there it was. The anger bleeding into his words, the rising volume. There would be no further discussion, and no option but to obey. Even Pharma knew when he had pushed the boundaries of his special privileges concerning Tarn. 

The medic picked himself up from the floor. His dignity had long since been lost, even if none of the other three mecha present would dare laugh in the presence of an angry Tarn. Still, their respect for him would continue to linger just below ridicule.

When the door closed behind Pharma, the silence grew unbearably uncomfortable. Tesarus found himself wishing that they’d find something, a stray ship, an outpost, anything that they could point their commander’s rage at. Now that the medic wasn’t here to draw his ire, it was only a matter of time before Tarn did need something to react to disproportionately. Tesarus missed when Tarn was invested in Nuke.


	2. Chapter 2

_ That fool _ . Tarn seethed as he watched the stars pass by, claws drawing new grooves on the command chair’s arms.

He didn’t like feeling guilty. Tarn  _ never  _ felt guilty, because everything he did was vindicated by his belief in the glory of the Cause. So right now, he wasn’t guilty.

He  _ was  _ angry, however. Pharma’s ill-timed entrance was something he should’ve expected. Pharma, no matter how he denounced the Autobots, still seemed to think he could carry on as ‘bot might. To Autobots, the medic’s word was final.

That wasn’t so on a Decepticon ship. For ‘cons, the commander’s word was law, tenants granted from their mortal Primus. They were followed,  _ or else _ .

Tarn had given Pharma  _ so many  _ chances, hadn’t he? Hadn’t he told him to leave not once, not twice, but three whole times? Three more chances than he granted anyone else, and Pharma had squandered them all on his thoughtless medical crusade. If he’d just  _ left _ , then Tarn wouldn’t have had to resort to using his voice on him -- and their sparkling -- to drive the message home.

Tarn the commander was completely right. He’d done what any Decepticon commander would’ve done when faced with open disobedience.

Tarn the mech, however, was feeling very, very guilty.

Such were the pitfalls of navigating a relationship with someone he had command over. Dividing out the duties of hierarchy and emotion required care. Tarn, normally, could’ve done it just fine. But he was post-Overlord, and  _ that  _ was a whole mess of unspoken problems that would always be a stone in his craw for however long Overlord lived.

Pharma was probably in the medibay now, feeling sorry for himself. He always did. Moping, like he hadn’t done anything wrong, like he hadn’t  _ pushed _ Tarn towards this. Then he’d be all quiet for the next week or so, holding his chest like he always did when stress got the better of him,  _ avoiding  _ Tarn...

Tarn’s mood worsened.

“Vos,” he said abruptly, drawing a jump out of the gunformer that sent another spike of fury through Tarn, “you have the conn.”

There was a brief affirmative hiss that Tarn missed as he swept out of the bridge, stomping down the maze of corridors that lead to the medibay.

“Pharma,” he growled, finding the medic. Pharma’s bravado was gone, leaving behind a slip of a medic that looked startled by his sudden entrance. Startled became wary. Wary became timid. Pharma had spent a long time getting used to his privileges, for Tarn to remember that there was more to the medic than his services and more to his spark than just Pharma alone.

Tarn had broken through the protective instincts of his sire protocols and in the process, frightened Pharma.  It wasn’t hard to see why, the medic having banked his behaviour on the fact that he was exempt from Tarn’s anger, and now he’d gotten a terrible reminder that it would not be so. That he was a Decepticon under Tarn’s command and even carrying his sparkling would not mean he was allowed disobedience or attempts to undermine the hierarchy aboard this ship.

It was glaringly obvious Pharma expected more punishment, or anger, frame expressing hints of cowering that needled the uncomfortable feeling of guilt that Tarn was already ignoring with severe prejudice.

“Tarn?”

“You --”  _ disobeyed me _ .

“I’m --”  _ not sorry _ .

“Is the sparkling alright?” It took a couple tries before Tarn settled on a safer topic. That strange twinge he’d felt -- it’d felt foreign from his spark’s usual fluctuations. The timing of its appearance was all too coincidental, as well.

“No. You used your  _ voice _ on him.”

Pharma’s tone was filled with accusation and not a small hint of betrayal. He did try to curl away from Tarn, physically.

“He reacted. He tried to protect me. From _ you. _ ”

“From  _ your  _ decisions, you mean,” Tarn said, bristling. “I  _ warned  _ you, Pharma. I told you to leave. What else was I supposed to do?” Tarn would’ve lost face in front of his unit, didn’t Pharma  _ understand  _ that?

He walked a little closer, ignoring Pharma’s recoil. “He did something. What did he do?”

“He modulated my frequency,” Pharma’s explanation came with a small hint of disbelief and yet, pride for his creation. As much as the medic failed to display a nurturing side to his personality, he was always a prideful mech, and this was as much his creation as Tarn’s. Even if it seemed to have inherited not only the rarity of his spark, but an ability much like his own.

“He even shielded it as he changed it. Did you not _ feel  _ that?”

“That’s different to my talent,” Tarn said. He was still angry at Pharma, but his curiosity was overriding his anger. Even Pharma’s fear seemed less, now that the topic wasn’t about them.

“Open your chamber.”

For just a moment, refusal crossed Pharma’s features, before he controlled them, carefully. Still wary, even if he did begin to lose his fear. Tarn had done some severe damage to the comfort the medic had displayed with him before the outpost, but that was Pharma’s problem to solve; he knew how he should be behaving. He knew and he’d ignored it.

The brilliant blue of his spark was bared before Tarn just a moment later. The green offshoot from it had grown, significantly, almost half of the size of the adult spark it was orbiting. The tendrils of plasma had multiplied also, grabbing and reaching for Pharma with greed, connecting the two sparks like interwoven trees. 

And yet...there was significantly more green plasma orbiting Pharma’s spark. It formed a thin layer along the side of it, mantling around the blue without ever mixing into it. 

Tarn stared into the mix of blue and green, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. It resembled his talent on the surface -- manipulation of sparks -- but this was completely different. His was sound-based. This was… energy based? Spark based?

“Stay still,” he ordered. “Bring a medical drone for this. I’m going to use my talent, and you will record it.” The discovery, although it hadn’t been made in the best circumstances, was an exciting one. Just what kind of sparkling had Tarn created?

_ Will the next one be the same? _

Skeptical dismay radiated from the other part of this creation process, but Pharma knew it was always better to keep Tarn interested rather than angry. It was like a flick of a button, the change in the medic’s demeanour. Suddenly accommodating instead of fearful, Pharma gathered up a drone, letting it hover beside the two of them with a clear view of the blue and sea-green of the sparks in his open chest. The pursuit of scientific investigation was one of the jet’s personal passions.

“Ready.”

Tarn reached for the right notes. He settled on passivity. “ _ Peaceful tyranny. _ ”

The shield flickered. Inside Tarn’s chest, a small flicker in his spark, matching the one his voice tried to do. “Did you feel that, Pharma?”

“Feel what?” It seemed without threat of pain to Pharma’s spark, the little 0.1 percenter didn’t perceive a need to react strongly, or to try and keep his carrier from harm. Did he know it was his sire’s touch? Did he know and reach out for his sire’s spark? What if something else were to threaten his carrier?

“It’s...this isn’t regular,” Pharma explained, glancing down at the webbed plasma sprawling in his chest, “Sparklings aren’t supposed to be capable of doing...anything but basic communication. Joy, fear, nothing beyond that.”

“It’s  _ our  _ sparkling.” Tarn peered in, reaching up to carefully prod one of the plasma lines connecting the two sparks. There was a hiss of burning metal and Tarn jerked back.

“It’s  _ hot _ ,” he said, sounding disbelieving, “he  _ attacked  _ me.” Contrary to his words, Tarn’s tone was growing more and more proud.

“ _ What if I do this?”  _ he  _ carefully  _ reached into the pain notes. There was a brighter flicker, and Tarn gasped as his spark spasmed unnaturally. “He’s… he’s  _ protecting  _ you.”

Pharma’s pulsed a bright emotion into the smaller one at that, and the sea-green spawn seemed content. The communication was silent and the medic didn’t see reason to share with Tarn what had happened. Instead, he cupped the plasma tendrils that extended from his chest.

“He reflected your talent?” the question was quiet, on the verge of jovial, but still careful. There was some poorly concealed joy and pride rushing through Pharma’s field, but at least it was justified this time. Their sparkling was a marvel, and they’d produced someone with the potential to be as uniquely strong as Tarn himself.

“He’s immune to me. I don’t know if he can do what I can to  _ other  _ people, however.” Tarn frowned.  _ Disciplining him will be harder _ . For that matter, disciplining  _ Pharma  _ would be harder.

“What are the chances of this, in general? A loadbearer spark, with outlier abilities?”

“Astronomically small.” The pride that had crept through Pharma’s field was warm in his voice now. Whether or not he realized that his sparkling would keep him immune to Tarn remained to be seen. He closed his chestplate without awaiting permission, a new kind of confidence radiating from his entire being. He watched Tarn, his optics expecting to gauge the tankformer’s reaction. 

“There’s no way of telling if he’ll be capable of doing this once he is disconnected from my spark.”

“His abilities manifested young. Once they do, they never leave.” Tarn would know, he’s had a good amount of experience with outliers and the way their powers came to be. “Do you think… if we have another sparkling, that it will be the same?”

“Another outlier? There’s no way to be sure. The fact that we created one is already an indication though, that our sparks...seem highly compatible.” 

There was something else lurking behind Pharma’s words. Something the medic was thinking of, and not yet revealing to Tarn. Pharma had never grown fully complacent of his situation, there were still fragments of a time when he tried to play games with Tarn left, even now. 

“There’s a way we could heighten the chances of...conceiving another spark like him.”

“How?”

To say Tarn’s interest was piqued was an understatement. He had a brief vision, of a small brood of his own creations, all with his own powers… their collected strength would be  _ unimaginable _ . A family built out of younger, fresher Warriors Elite, except actually  _ loyal _ .

“To stabilize our sparks’ interactions. You’re an Outlier. You could fry my systems beyond repair. That wouldn’t happen with a sparkbond.” Pharma watched him carefully now. He knew what he was suggesting, and he knew it would probably not confirm with Tarn’s vision of what their future would hold, but he was taking the chance. Whether it was truly for the benefit of creating more exceptional sparklings or to cement his own invulnerability to Tarn’s whims, that was only known to Pharma.

“You want us to bond?” Tarn’s question was purely rhetorical, but he felt that it needed repeating. Didn’t Pharma understand the  _ depth  _ of such a commitment? How much more investment in each other that meant?

“Isn’t love needed for that?”

This wasn’t just merging, or interfacing. This was unity of their  _ sparks _ .

Pharma hesitated at that. If he had considered that aspect, he would have been prepared for it. The medic remained quiet, contemplating, trying to think of a way out of the corner he had talked himself into, or for an excuse that would lighten his suggestion.

Finally, he looked back at Tarn, something akin to determination in the blue of his optics.

“We’ve sparkmerged successfully without it before.”

“You nearly died and we were both in severe pain for most of the night.” Spark merging was nowhere as romantically fulfilling as the novellas made it seem. It was painful, messy, and altogether a process Tarn would like to avoid.

“Why would you suggest a bond in the first place?”

“It stabilizes the connection. It would reduce the fallout and the pain we had the last time.” Pharma grew uncomfortable, it was obvious in the way his wings slicked back as much as they could, his gaze began to wonder, and his servos began to search for something to hold.

“If you want another sparkling, that is my condition.”


	3. Chapter 3

“A bond?” Tarn wasn’t buying it. People didn’t ask for bonds  _ just because _ . “You’re going to be connected to me.  _ Forever _ . One of us will die if the other does. You can’t take that back, ever.”

“You might kill me with a second sparkmerge without it.” Pharma was stubbornly set on it now that it had lodged itself into his brain. His features sharpened the way they always did when he believed himself to have an edge.

“It’ll have to wait until the carrying cycle for this one is complete.”

“I thought you were the type to not bond.” It was a low blow. They both knew it. Tarn didn’t back down, however, as he crossed his arms, waiting.

“I’m...” Pharma faltered, just for a second. His optics travelled, couldn’t focus on Tarn any longer. 

He’d not planned this through, or else his weapons would have been primed and at the ready, fired in the conversation with concise aim. Pharma was losing their game, again.

“You wanted to know about more sparklings. I told you the most potent circumstance of recreating it. That’s all.” It wasn’t all. Far, far from it.

“So if I were to say more sparklings isn’t worth the risk of a bond, what would you say?” Pharma wasn’t saying something. Tarn didn’t like knowing Pharma was hiding things from him -- it always called into doubt what they were talking about, what they were doing. Why was Pharma so intent on concealing his reasoning from Tarn? 

“I would say that’s a loss of chance of more outlier sparklings.” Pharma was adamant about not saying whatever it was on his mind, and he was about to derail the conversation with flippant remarks.

Pharma’s stubbornness was going to be the end of him. Tarn glared at him, before beginning to pace. He crossed the medibay once, twice, before looking at Pharma.

“I want a T-cog transplant.” Tarn didn’t even wait for an affirmative -- he was already laying back on the medical slab, looking at Pharma expectantly. 

The medic didn’t dignify him with a response, but moved to his workstation, obeying the demand without thought. There was a steady supply of t-cogs now, always on hand for Tarn’s needs. It came from unwilling donations, mecha unfortunate enough to have encountered the resurrected DJD. 

Pharma said nothing about Tarn heeding his unwanted advice. At least he was beginning to understand what place a medic had aboard a Decepticon ship.

Tarn stared up at the medibay’s ceiling, turning over Pharma’s words in his head. He wanted a bond, but he offered an explanation that was too… small for the scope of the bond.

“You would risk a bond with me, for life, just so you can raise the chances of an outlier sparkling?”

Pharma had to know what he was suggesting was just…  _ ridiculous _ . It was like sending in a Phase Sixer to pick up a package, or a metrotitan for patrol.  _ Overkill _ .

“There’s no risk if I have a bond with you.” Pharma didn’t want to explain himself. Everything about his short, ragged movements suggested he was getting very frustrated with Tarn’s continued questioning and running out of options to evade an honest answer.

At least his servos moved steadily, never betraying their function. Although Pharma did look as if he’d prefer to be using his saw instead of the laser scalpel.

“No risk? Did you forget the endless bond between us, linking our sparks for life? The risk of dying if one does?”

“I will die if you die anyway,” Pharma tapped his badge, “What’s the difference?”

“There’s no guarantee of that. Anything could happen. We could be separated. Whoever kills me might spare you. Not going to happen if there’s a bond.”

“You still believe in such a thing as mercy? That is a surprise, I have to say.”

 

“You’re changing the subject.” Pharma was growing more and more evasive by the minute. He wasn’t even trying to conceal it now. He knew it, Tarn knew it, and if Pharma didn’t cough up real answers soon, this wouldn’t end prettily. Tarn didn’t  _ like  _ being lied to, even if it was out of omission. 

“That’s besides the point. If you die, most likely your entire division would go. That includes me now. It’s just logical, Tarn, nothing more. And I’d prefer to go via spark failure rather than being tortured or dismantled.” Pharma stroked over the purple metal, deciding that the truth needed to be buried. Deeper than this thin layer he’d put on. The truth needed to sink to the depths of the worlds and be forgotten.

 

“I don’t want to bond without love.” It was time to see whose stubborn streak was wider -- Tarn or Pharma’s. The old argument was left behind -- though not forgotten -- for this one. Tarn watched Pharma get ready for the surgery, though by now, he could probably do it in recharge with one hand.

“I’d rather not do it at all, than do it with someone who wants it based on  _ convenience _ .”

 

“You want to to bond for love? Tarn, that is unexpectedly romantic of you.” and impossible. Tarn didn’t know how to make room in his life for anyone but the Cause and himself, at most. His fanatical pride would be the death of him and all he cared for.

 

“Am I not allowed romance?”

It was hidden under several layers of undirected rage, fanaticism, and carefully cultivated class, but Tarn did have a few seeds of romance in him. He didn’t indulge in them often -- practically won out over sentimentality, with him -- but here, he would not budge. A future with his brood of little outliers was tantalizing, but not enough for him to give up his spark for it. Tarn was a lover to great, sweeping ideals, be they social foundations or his personal life.

“Our relationship is one built off a deal and mutual understanding of…  _ needs _ . I know that and so far, I have been satisfied with what I have. But you do not love me, Pharma, and I don’t love you. Let’s not fool ourselves.”

 

Pharma’s servos stilled on Tarn. Was that the truth of it? It burned in him, Tarn’s thoughts. He knew they were true, that the tankformer would, although he was cruel in nature when he wanted to be, not pretend anything for his sake. Pharma should think hard about this, instead of trusting that traitorous part of his spark that said otherwise. That part wanted Tarn to be tied to Pharma, permanently, their family unit invincible and inseparable.

That part of Pharma needed to be silenced.

“I opened my spark to you.” he accused, opening Tarn’s plating and ignoring the rising stench.

 

“So did I. It doesn’t change the truth.”

And it was the truth. Because if that wasn’t the truth, then there came a whole mess of things that were better left untouched, because they left Tarn open and vulnerable unlike anything else before. He loved nothing but the Cause, and nothing loved him. That was how the rules of the universe worked.

“You’ve told me you only care for yourself plenty of times. Someone as self-serving as you should balk at something like a bond.”

Tarn did what he always did when he was questioning himself too much for comfort; he attacked.

 

“Of course I do.” He didn’t. Pharma really didn’t. There was an entirely new mess of emotions that had just unfurled that he was not ready to deal with, in the slightest. His sparkling brushed over the sudden anxiety in him, trying to question his carrier as to why he was distraught.

“I mean. Who would want to bond with you?”

Pharma would. Pharma definitely would. He remembered all of Tarn’s soft touches, words, the vision of him singing for their sparkling. That was a mech Pharma could...what,  _ love _ ?

 

“You.” Curt. Graceless. Headstrong. Tarn met Pharma’s optics and held it. “And I don’t know why.”

Bonding with Pharma… feh! That was a fool’s dream. Pharma cared for number one -- Pharma. He used Tarn for convenience and lust. Their sparkling was an accident they both welcomed, but not because it had been a labor of love. Even the merge had been done in the heat of the moment, spurred by the interface and thoughtlessness. Pharma would never open his spark for Tarn like the bond demanded, and Tarn wasn’t going to be the one to burn.

 

Pharma’s field burned with indignation. Tarn was as cruel as he could be, as far away from the mech who held Pharma gently at night as he possibly could be. And still, the medic knew he cared for Tarn, deeply. He had been concerned about his burned out cog enough to risk punishment, for Primus’ sake. That didn't just happen because Pharma wanted his thick spike and protection. When had it come to this? When had fear and lust lead to worry and desire? When had he decided that Tarn could have all of him?

“Not anymore. I’d rather bond with Overlord than you.”

 

“ _ Don’t  _ say his name!”

Tarn surged up from where he’d been lying prone, hand darting out to grab Pharma by the wing. “I may not be able to talk your spark into pain,” he said, optics burning red, “but I can still  _ hurt  _ you.”

Tarn began to squeeze. Metal squeaked in protest, before beginning to buckle. It’d been a long time since Tarn had last deformed Pharma’s wings, but the metal gave way just as easily as the last time. When he was done, his left wing had a clear print of Tarn’s hand, half-way crumpled in on itself.

 

Pharma had yelped in pain, cursing himself for serving his own vanity and keeping his wingtips as fragile and beautiful as ever when he could have deadened their sensors and thickened the armor. When Tarn finally let go, Pharma pulled his wing close, examining it with the other servo. That would take at least two hours of reshaping...It didn’t shock him that Tarn would still be brutal with him, but it hurt far deeper than the mere layer of his plating and protoform. He felt a yawning pit of disappointment open up inside of him, and it swallowed everything he could have possibly pictured with Tarn. A family unit, a worshipping lover...Tarn was still the same and Pharma cursed himself for his delusions. Tarn would never want to bond him, or love him, and Pharma was insulting himself through merely entertaining the notion.

“At least he values something.” _ Other than a dead Cause _ .

 

“Then perhaps you should’ve left  _ with him  _ when you repaired him. He’d take on a berthwarmer for a new toy.” Tarn’s iron grip on his emotions broke through as jealousy ran rampant through his field. His entire frame was tense, taut with fury. As soon as those words left his lips, Tarn wanted to take them back, stuff them back into oblivion where they belonged, but no.

He refused to budge even an inch.

 

“I didn’t know that was an option,” Pharma snapped, furious in his own right. Tarn behaved as if Pharma had no place at his side without being...that. A whore for his pleasures, ready to leave as soon as a more powerful warframe showed up and demonstrated the ability to hold his own and more against Tarn.

All the tender little roots of emotion that Pharma had been beginning to acknowledge as possible, all of the small, secret pockets of affection he had been nurturing since Tarn proved to be an eager sire...all of them burned away under the furious blaze of Tarn’s angry dismissal. Blackened hatred settled in their ashes, blooming with renewed fervor. What had Pharma been thinking? That Tarn would love him, eventually? Stupid. That was beyond stupid.

“I promised you I’d follow you. But you are still so ready to be rid of me.”

He meant nothing to Tarn. That was the bitter truth Pharma had refused to accept for so long, but he no longer had the choice. 

 

“A loyal followers  _ obeys _ . They prove themselves with  _ honesty _ . Have I had  _ any  _ of those from you, Pharma? What are your promises, but lies to hold on to whatever scraps of power you can take from me?”

He pushed Pharma back, yanking his hands out of his internals. His surgery wasn’t done and trickles of energon spurted out of unprotected lines getting crushed under plating as Tarn hauled himself off the slab. He pushed Pharma again, to the floor.

“You’re a _liar_ ,” he accused, jabbing a finger down at Pharma, “and you don’t care for anything besides your welfare -- not the division, not the Cause, not _me_. Was the sparkling really an accident, or just another _tool_ _to_ ** _use me_**?!”

 

Any objections to being interrupted before he could re-attach and seal the lines as well as a general lack of observing the rules of surgery were completely wiped from Pharma’s mind as Tarn began to layer on his accusations, looming above him, energon splashed hatch still open. He looked deranged and threatening, especially from this angle.

Pharma curled himself away, arm over his chest, stress having his spark pulse so rapidly he could feel his sparkling reach out in concern, trying to soothe what it did not understand. 

Tarn was wrong. He was oh so wrong, and that he didn’t know that brought Pharma near to tears. He shut down the ducts, not willing to show the tankformer how deeply he was cutting in. Pharma, the smart survivalist, the arrogant mech who only cared for himself. And yet...he’d freed the DJD, followed them out of...something his logical reasoning did not explain adequately. He’d become a Decepticon, put up with Helex, Tesarus and Vos as well as Tarn’s terrible mood swings. He pledged himself to a dead Cause with insane goals for the sake of this masked mech who stood over him, looked ready to crush him. 


	4. Chapter 4

Pharma had been such a fool. Those fantasies of his, they had pushed him to the brink of sanity. They lead him to believe that maybe, if Tarn could find him useful, have him around, he’d understand that Pharma’s loyalty wasn’t a self-serving as he believed.

But Tarn didn’t care about that. Why should he? Pharma should have been more vigilant, not interpret Tarn’s enthusiasm about his Outlier sparkling as the tender affection he could offer Pharma. But nothing Pharma could say or do would say Tarn, especially not now, to believe him in any other way. He probably wouldn’t kill his medic and carrier of his sparkling. Not now. Not as long as there was nothing to replace him.

And Pharma had run into this situation with the idiotic notion that he might feel a sickly kind of love for this mech. 

“I wouldn’t...” he whispered. 

 

“You  _ wouldn’t _ ,” Tarn echoed, cruelty edging into his tone. “Is that another lie, to assuage your conscience? Another lie, to convince yourself of your rightness? Another lie, to fool me?”

He knelt down, grabbing Pharma by the scruff. Dragged him closer, till their faces nearly touched. “I believed you,” he whispered. “I believed you, everything you said. I cared for you, I protected you, I wanted…  _ I wanted _ …”

He dropped Pharma, the fire gone from him. “I wanted your loyalty. And you won’t give it to me.”

His mask left his face, clattering to the floor carelessly. 

 

“I already gave you everything, Tarn.  _ Everything. _ ” Pharma looked up at the sound of the clatter, trying to ignore how his spark clenched at the sight of Tarn’s face. His stupid, handsome face that Pharma wanted to touch and hold and kiss -- Stop it. He had to stop it. Tarn wasn’t worthy of his affection, of his love. No matter how Pharma tried to please the mech, it wasn’t good enough. Pharma was stuck with him now, having backed himself too far into this particular corner. Without Tarn’s favour, his time was limited.

Why didn’t he care?

“I...” he should say it. For once, in his life, he shouldn’t cower from Tarn’s anger and the punishment. The sparkling in his chest might keep him from death. And even if not...Pharma was going to speak his mind.

“I hate that I love you. I hate that it doesn’t matter to you. I hate that I thought I could give you what you wanted, until you would want  _ me _ .”

 

His spark spasmed. Anger and pain mixed as Tarn glared at Pharma. “Don’t lie about that,” he snapped. “The damage has already been done. Lying about loving me does nothing.”

He wished it were true. But it wasn’t, and it wouldn’t be. Pharma himself had said so earlier, hadn’t he? He didn’t love Tarn. So hoping for it would only create more ashes in his mouth.

 

“I’m not lying.” Pharma had nothing to prove his words true. That was the sad reality of it all. Short of Tarn actually making use of their merge, and understanding the feelings he’d gotten from Pharma’s very spark, there was no proof. It was ridiculous and completely typical, but Tarn needed proof.

“You won’t believe me, no matter what I say.” 

His optics were getting increasingly obscured and it probably was a sign of weakness that he showed Tarn that this affected him so deeply, but Pharma had nothing left to lose. He’d spilled his well-guarded secret, and Tarn refused it like a withered, foul offering. 

“You felt my spark, and you still don’t believe me.”

 

“Then merge with me.” Tarn watched Pharma for any sign of duplicity, prepared to call his bluff once Pharma realized his mistake. It would hurt, but no more than the rocky acceptance of knowing Pharma didn’t care and never cared.

“If you’re not lying, then prove it with a merge.”

 

Pharma’s chestplate opened with a hiss, the medic staring up at him with petulant defiance. The green shield was still half-formed on Pharma’s spark, but the blue reached out nonetheless.

Tarn would know. He would know and even if this merge burned him out entirely this time, it would be worth it.

There was no sign of hesitation in the medic at all.

 

“Didn’t you say merging again could kill you?” Tarn stared at Pharma’s spark with naked hunger, longing written on every inch of his face. He still held back, however, and looked up at Pharma. “What if you die?”

His chest opened, slower than Pharma’s, as Tarn edged closer. Their sparks didn’t meet yet. “You would risk that?”

 

Pharma watched the green light, pouring through the cracks before the plates slid away. He knew the risks. He couldn’t bank on his Outlier sparkling to protect him from everything, and he could only hope that this would not spell the end of their miraculous offspring. Although perhaps if his spark did burn out so close to Tarn’s, the sparkling would latch onto his instead. He reached out to the edge of Tarn’s sparkchamber, tracing a soft line along the protoform metal.

“You’re worth it.”

 

Their optics met as Tarn, with shaking hands, pulled Pharma closer by the shoulders. Their sparks reached for each other out of their respective chambers, plasma tangling in the middle and curling around in a medley of blues and greens. Finally, their sparks met in a kaleidoscope of colors.

The merge was as overwhelming as the first time. Tarn felt like he’d been punched by Overlord as memories and emotions shot between them, their sparks spinning as more and more plasma was exchanged.

_ Pain _ . All the bottled anger and fury at one another, dark roots of resentment creating cracks in their fledgling relationship.

_ Fear _ . Tarn, scared of his past. Pharma, scared of the future. Both of them too stubborn and willful to take the first step into the unknown.

_ Distrust _ . All the unspoken things becoming malformed caricatures of themselves. Half-truths and lies intertwining into monstrosities that plagued their minds.

And…

_ Love _ . Soft and weak and flickering on the edge of disappearance. It was almost overwhelmed by the storm around it, but stood fast, deep roots reaching to the core of their sparks. Gentle and timid, Tarn curled his hands around it, cupping something precious.

_ I have to stop. He’ll die _ .

Disconnecting hurt. Tarn pushed Pharma away as his spark pulled more and more of Pharma in, while pushing its green tendrils deep into Pharma’s sparkchamber, trying to swallow up his spark. Tarn gasped, pained, as his spark was alone once more.

His sparkchamber closed. Tarn braced himself on his hands and knees, venting.

“Pharma… you weren’t… you weren’t lying. You do. Primus,  _ you do _ .”

 

Tarn’s green, brilliant light dissipated, but what it left behind in Pharma’s sparkchamber was nothing close to gentle revelation. The blue was completely overloaded with green tendrils of plasma, spasming and trying its hardest to control the massive influx of energy. But Pharma’s warnings about merging with his beloved Outlier should have been heeded by the medic himself.

The pain was too much. It was overwhelming, taking his systems, blinding every sensor and circuit. Pharma felt it race it from his chest, cracking everything in its wake, those cracks erupting with charge that had nowhere to go, no way to dissipate, nothing to do but to destroy the frame that couldn’t contain it. 

Pharma felt his sparkling, panicking, blindly reaching in, but it could do nothing for the blue spark it loved so unconditionally. Sorrow mingled into excruciating pain, pain that made every use of Tarn’s voice to harm him feel like a gentle caress. Pharma never thought that he would feel his spark burn out so slowly, so perfectly, so all-consuming. Everything felt aflame, his frame, his spark, his thoughts. 

Vision had forsaken him alongside any control over his vocalizer. He sent Tarn a silent glyph over his rapidly eroding communication channel, just a single, simple glyph to express love. Tarn would have never believed him without this.

And then the white-hot fire took his very last thought as everything came to an end, his sparkchamber blackened when the blue spark spun, spasmed, and burned out, leaving behind a lonely green sparkling and a grey, empty frame.

 

“... Pharma…?”

The silence was too complete. Tarn looked up, past the smoking drifting out of his sparkchamber, and to where Pharma’s frame lay. He was still seizing, optics whited out, as his frame tried to channel the energy. Tarn crawled closer, cradling Pharma’s frame in his arms as he tried to coax the medic out of it.

“Shh, Pharma, shh, it’s okay. I believe you. You were right, I was so wrong, Pharma. You’re going to be okay.”

Smoke rose up as Tarn watched Pharma’s spark convulse. He could  _ feel  _ it, each desperate spin as it struggled. Unsure of what do, how to help, Tarn began to hum. He laced his song and words with quiet, trying to calm the spark. When he finally thought it might end, there came a blip from his HUD.

_ Love _ .

A single, simple glyph, sent from Pharma.

Then the frame in his arms began to keen. Pharma arched up, spark glowing too bright, as a wordless, single-note shriek of pain escaped him and Tarn’s song grew disjointed as he lost his concentration, slipping between his talent and his normal notes as he tried to stop Pharma’s spark convulsions.

Another brilliant ray of blue light soared out, before the spark dimmed. Plasma died out in dregs as the glowing orb turned dark and grey, cold and lifeless, seeped out between Tarn’s fingers.

“Pharma? Pharma?! No, no, no, Pharma, no!”

The grey was unstoppable. It spread from Pharma’s chest, up to his face, to the wing Tarn had broken in his thoughtless fury, to his legs. It drained Pharma of all his vibrancy, leaving him dull and dark. Tarn clawed at the grey, leaving dents in Pharma’s plating, trying to stop the spread as a steady deluge of denials tumbled from his mouth. By then, Pharma was silent.

The last to go was Pharma’s optics. Blue and bright, they flickered, then dimmed. The grey leeched the color from the glass as well. His face slackened from the rictus of pain, loose and gently surprised.

Tarn, trembling hard, gently shook Pharma. The medic followed the motions, helm slipping to the side.

“Pharma?”

Nothing.

“Pharma, wake up.”

Still, dead grey. Gone. All of him, all of what Tarn had, gone.

“Pharma, I believe you. You were right. Pharma,  _ please _ . You said you wouldn’t leave. You promised me.”

Dead. Dead. Dead.

“I love you. Pharma, I love you. I want us to bond. Please. Just… just wake up.”

_ I killed him _ .

Ragged vents rattled his plating as Tarn held Pharma to his chest, heaving. Already, he felt so cold. How many dead frames had Tarn ever touched? Had they all felt so cold, so still? Had they ever been so terribly empty?

Tarn didn’t make a sound. He breathed hard, trying to keep his hands still when they shook so hard he almost dropped Pharma. Slowly, a thin, soft sound escaped him. It was low. It was mindless. His loss was here, right in Tarn’s arms, taken from him because of his hubris. Tarn rocked the corpse he held, holding the wreckage of what could have been.

There came a soft flutter. Right under his palm, as Tarn bent to sob noiselessly. When he looked at it, he found the flicker of green plasma, unsure and nascent.

The sparkling. His.  _ Pharma’s _ .

Tarn reached into Pharma’s chest -- his dead, grey chest -- and cupped the tiny ember of light. It looked lost without its carrier to orbit, plasma trailing off from it and dying in the cool air of the medibay. It already felt so weak without Pharma’s spark to stabilize it. Left out, it would die in the same chamber its carrier had, starved and alone.

His chamber opened. Green light poured out as Tarn pushed their sparkling into the safety of his own sparkchamber, besides the roaring strength of his spark. The plasma latched together but Tarn’s fear of overwhelming it was unfounded. The sparkling eagerly darted into his sparkchamber, emitting a silent query.

_ Where _ ?

The sparkling bloomed in strength, its queries growing with it.

_ Where? Where? Where? _

Unbidden, Pharma’s face swam into view.

_ Where… him? _

“Gone,” Tarn whispered.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

They called the ship ‘Haunted Misery’ when Tarn wasn’t around. They didn’t actually talk much at all when Tarn was around these days, because the mech had become the epitome of a brooding doomsbringer. He still gave orders, tolerated no insubordination, and especially no inquiries to his wellbeing. 

Not that Tesarus and Vos would repeat Helex’ mistake from the day they’d found their commander holding a very dead medic in the medibay and the smelter had asked if Tarn was alright. He was still missing his second set of arms and without Pharma around anymore, no one would be replacing them. Without Pharma around, a lot of things had become bleak, not just Tarn’s mood. There was no one to tease, nothing to entertain the unit when they were bored. They had to walk on eggshells around their commander, who had not spoken a word of what happened that day.

Tesarus had a theory that Tarn had just finally snapped after Pharma’s stunt on the bridge and killed the snobby jet. The only reason he was in a terrible mood now though was because a) he wasn’t ‘facing regularly anymore and b) medics were actually pretty hard to procure and  C) Tarn needed a new cog. Helex thought it was a perfectly reasonable explanation, and Vos had hissed something so elongated that neither of them had understood it completely.

At least they were making good time on catching the Peaceful Tyranny. The ship was firmly on their scanners and they were closing in by the minute, a fact their commander should be informed of.

::We’re almost close enough to engage the tractor beam and board the Peaceful Tyranny.::

 

The world passed Tarn by in a blur. He was the axis upon which it all turned, flying past him too fast to be seen. His sparkling orbited his spark quietly, dimmer without its carrier, seemingly echoing Tarn’s mood. It seemed warmer to him now, since they only had each other.

The Cause. The  _ Peaceful Tyranny _ . It all blurred into greyness. Grey like Pharma.

_ ::Take us in.:: _

Tarn lay on his berth, where Pharma’s frame was. It was a little cracked, some energon congealed around his optics and mouth, but still beautiful. Even if it rusted and fell apart, he would be.

The ship docked, the  _ Peaceful Tyranny  _ came close. Tarn laid back, uncaring. 

 

-x-

 

It took three years. One to find the mech. Another, to kidnap him and force him to build a working timecase. And another, to work up the courage to use it. By then, Pharma’s frames optics were gone, his internals rusted, nothing functional.

Brainstorm was let go.

The timecase sat on his lap, bright yellow and seemingly harmless, holding all the secrets to Tarn’s happiness. The sparkling in his chest was near full-grown now, heavy and swollen with his sire’s plasma. Soon, it would have to be let out.

Tarn clicked in the correct date. The medibay was dark around him, his crew sleeping. He’d left a note, in case he died.

With a flash of light, Tarn was gone.

 

Pharma’s chestplate opened with a hiss, the medic staring up at Tarn with petulant defiance. The green shield was still half-formed on Pharma’s spark, but the blue reached out nonetheless. It was risky, and he should know better. But the desperate part of him that cried out under Tarn’s accusations wouldn’t have it any other way. Tarn needed to know. Tarn needed to see and feel that Pharma loved him, irresponsibly and irrevocably. It ended here, the road to being at Tarn’s side, for better or for worse.

“You’re worth --”

Something blazed in the corner of the medibay. A brilliant flash of light, born neither of Tarn or Pharma, shook the whole room and whisked medical tools off of his workstation. Something was forming, in the light, something big. Pharma cowered into the shadow of Tarn as a massive frame began to emerge from the light, a gloomy apparition summoned from Primus only knew where.

“What the frag is that?!” the jet whispered, but his answer didn’t come from Tarn’s lips, it came from his own optics with surprised recognition.

Tarn was here, close to him, and he was also over  _ there _ in the corner, glowering from behind his mask.

 

There was a pregnant pause, where the two Tarns stared at each other. Tarn, from the future, saw himself with Pharma -- beautiful, loving Pharma, who he didn’t deserve -- and the position they were in. His wonder at the time travel dissolved under his rage.

With a roar, he tackled himself away from Pharma.

 

Brief seconds of wonder erupted into chaos. Pharma shrank back, but the violence didn’t seem to be directed at him at all. Instead, the apparition Tarn had bowled over his Tarn, resulting in a wrestling mess of two massive frames. The medic snapped his chestplate shut and scrambled back, trying to keep out of the way.

“What’s going on?! Tarn? Tarn!”

He couldn’t help, he certainly couldn’t interfere if he valued his frame how it was, but Tarn was under attack in his own medibay and something was definitely wrong here, because the other Tarn made exactly the same moves, had a similar field, even his voice seemed to match.

Duplicate? Alternate? Decoy? What was this new mech?! 

The fight lasted only seconds. His past self was taken by surprise, didn’t understand what was happening, and simply didn’t have his future self’s endless rage powering him. Within moments, he was pinned with Tarn’s fusion cannons jammed under his jaw.

“Murderer,” he spat. His alternate only looked confused. “The merge  _ killed  _ Pharma.”

Still confused.

“I’m from the future, to fix our mistakes.”

“You’re… what?”

Tarn eased himself off his alternate, though he kept his cannons trained on him. “The merge killed my Pharma. I came back, to stop it all from happening. I’m not letting him die again.”

“This is --”

“Shut up,” Tarn cut him off with a sharp gesture. “Merge with me. I’ll prove it.”

“I am not merging with you, you --”

Tarn punched him. Himself. His chest opened, while he grabbed his alternate and found the manual latch for his systems. The one required to open his chest panels clicked, and two identical green sparks met each other, albeit one with a passenger. His alternate tried to fight, but seized when the merge was forced. Tarn pushed everything -- the fight, the loss, the death, and the years after -- at himself, trying to make him  _ see. _

 

The medibay was illuminated with green light, and Pharma could only sit and watch in wonder. He’d heard their futuristic visitor’s words, the proclamation of his own death following the merge that had been seconds from happening. It sounded absurd though. To think Tarn himself would come back all the way through some sort of time travel device just to save Pharma’s life.

It had his spark pulse with aching warmth to think of such dedication, even if he hesitated to believe it.

It also had his spark pulse with warmth to watch two of the mech he loved, merging together whilst their frames were locked up in such close proximity. Pharma’s mind was plagued with possibilities, entirely inappropriate for this moment in time. His protocols even pinged in question, but he shut down any attempts to heat him up. Not now. Not like this.

Whatever exchange was taking place was important. Pharma’s optics were glued to both Tarns, but his own’s expression would tell tale of what was being shared with him by his future self.

 

They separated when Tarn punched himself again. It wasn’t necessary, but it felt good.

His past fell back, optics wide as he tried to process everything his future self had shoved into his head. Memories of loneliness and regret, every shamed action,  _ everything _ …

“You… with his dead body?”

“You would’ve done the same,” Tarn said, sneering. His mask was gone, in preparation for this, but it was strange seeing his expressions mirrored back. “He loves me. You. Us. Don’t throw it away again.”

His past self still looked stunned. Tarn took advantage of his shock to find Pharma, still on the floor, looking confused at the two of them. Three years and a lifetime of regret fell away as he crossed the space between them, scooping Pharma up and hugging him to his chest desperately. His field stretched out, wrapping around Pharma as well.

“I’m sorry,” Tarn said, feeling how warm he was, how alive he was, “For everything. For what I said. I’m so sorry, Pharma. I was a fool who couldn’t see what was in front of me the whole time. I love you. A life without you isn’t worth living.”

 

Usually, being swept up into the embrace of a tank would give Pharma some concern at the very least, but this touch, this field, it was so achingly familiar. Those optics watching him with such intensity-- even if he didn’t see the merge, he would have believed that this had to be Tarn. A wiser one, certainly, a desperate one, judging by how held onto Pharma. But definitely Tarn.

The medic hesitated as he put an arm around Tarn’s neck, his free servo tracing over scarred derma. It almost felt exactly like one of his fantasies, minus the doubled presence of Tarn. The declaration of love, the apology, the dedication...

His spark pulsed with greedy happiness, finally allowed a piece of what he so desperately wanted. Tarn loved him. Tarn really...loved him. Tarn came back through time for  _ him. _

“I...” Pharma couldn’t look away from the longing in those red optics. “I love you, Tarn. I’m yours. I always was.”

He offered it to this mech who needed to hear it so much he would punch himself in order to have a chance of it.

 

Who knew declarations of love could be so attractive?

Tarn grinned, fierce joy shining in his optics, as he threw his head back and laughed breathlessly. It was a bit wild -- three years for this, and each one had been totally worth it -- and wrapped his arms around Pharma even more, picking him up and spinning him around. The only damper to his burgeoning glee was the sight of his alternate, now recovered and looking very, very jealous at what was happening.

“Get  _ off  _ him,” he snarled.

Tarn held Pharma closer. “Not a chance.”

Briefly, his alternate look flummoxed. It quickly became anger. “He’s  _ mine _ .”

Now it was Tarn’s turn to grow angry. “I earned this. I waited three years. You can’t even tell him you love him.”

“I do lo --” his alternate stopped, looking as if the very words pained him. Tarn radiated smugness.

“See?”

To slam home in the last nail, Tarn dipped Pharma and kissed him. Three years. It still felt the same.

It was worth every moment, even when his alternate almost gutted him. They couldn’t properly fight in the confined space of the medibay, not with Pharma there, but his alternate had one hand around Pharma’s waist and the other digging into the softer cables of Tarn’s neck. To Tarn’s credit, he had  _ his  _ arm around Pharma’s shoulders, and a fusion cannon lodged in his alternate’s abdomen.

“You were the one to  _ kill  _ him.”

“And you would’ve, if I hadn’t come and stopped you. Pharma deserves to be loved.” Tarn looked down at the medic between them, gaze softening as his field cuddled up closer. “Worshipped.”

His alternate’s jealousy was  _ really  _ killing the mood. The disgust didn’t help. “Get your hands off him.”

“So you can go back to ‘facing him and not telling him the truth?”

“That is  _ my _ concern --”

“Why shouldn’t I just take Pharma with me? He’d be happier. More loved. I’d give him the attention he  _ deserves _ .”

“You’ve gone mad after killing him.”

“Madly in love.”

His alternate looked ready to retch. “Hands. Off!”

“Never.” Tarn curled around Pharma, purring. “Not until you admit the truth.”

“There is nothing to admit!”

 

Pharma was beginning to wonder if someone had extracted his fantasy of Tarn, given it physical shape and sent it here to bring him eternal happiness, because the level of warmth and open admiration that this Tarn was overwhelming him with was absolute balm on his tortured spark and thoughts. He would have lost himself easily to the bliss of the moment, but his Tarn, his real Tarn whom he had been fighting with, arguing with and trying to perform surgery on, tore into the moment with glaring jealousy. Hand were on his frame, pulling him two ways, crushing him up between two massive tanks.

Perhaps he should have been worried for his safety, but Pharma was giddy, drunk off of the declaration and being the absolute center of attention and desire. Tarn was in front of him, behind him, two fields vied to lock with his, two sparks burned for his. Pharma could get used to this, feeling this desired and wanted. 

If he interrupted them, they’d pop his soap bubble. Whilst one would surely tell him more sweetnesses, the other would erupt into a fight, because possession was something Tarn was very, very concerned with. He couldn’t even share with himself.

“Please, tell me more. What would it be like, with you?” 

Alright, maybe he was egging this on. Maybe he wanted to bask in this glorious moment, a triumph for his feelings and his mind. Tarn, worshipping him like a mad idol. If this was a dream, Pharma never wanted to wake up.

 

“Full of love,” Tarn promised, nuzzling his face to Pharma’s, “Nothing but the best for you. Treating you like the miracle you are. I would give you all the gifts, give you power, give --”

“You are  _ insane _ ,” his alternate hissed from Pharma’s other side. “I’ve seen your memories. You slept with Pharma’s dead body  _ for three years _ .”

Tarn pulled Pharma closer, glaring. “I want to make him happy. I bet I could now, if he wants me to. You deserve everything I can give, don’t you, Pharma?” He cradled Pharma’s living -- living! -- body closer, pressing kisses to his helm. 

“Stop  _ touching  _ him.”

“Or else what? You’ll kill me? You’ll leave? You’re welcome to -- then I can show Pharma just how  _ much  _ I love him.”

His alternate’s expression was on the murderous side now. “You won’t touch him. You will certainly not ‘face with him!”

“Why not?” Tarn taunted. “I’d make him actually  _ happy _ .”

 

This situation was sweet, comical and dangerous. Pharma didn’t know if he’d ever felt something like that mixture of feelings before, but he was going to enjoy every ounce of what this could offer to him. He was an opportunist, after all. And whilst it was wonderful to hear this new, madder Tarn utter such promises of love and happiness to him, he was also very much observing how ‘his’ Tarn took the news, grew more jealous, murderous and possessive. 

“Tarn, he is you. Interfacing with him...or you...I would never be opposed to.” Gently. He had to work this gently, or he may not get the wild new fantasy taking hold of his thoughts. His panels clicked, but didn’t slide open, although he was very much getting heated by being those close to both of them. If he could somehow have Tarn, both of him, show him all that admirable affection, he would be a happy mech. He leaned as much of his hips back, bumping into his own Tarn’s chest whilst his torso was splayed against the other.

“Please don’t fight over me,”  _ oh, please do, _ “you could be making me happy instead.”

 

“You would interface with  _ him _ ?” his alternate sounded betrayed.

Tarn purred. “I  _ am  _ you. Better, but you. He knows what he wants. Just tell me what you want, love, and I’ll make it possible.”

“He is not -- I’m -- tell  _ me _ ,” his alternate insisted, realizing he was losing ground. “We don’t need him, Pharma. Send him back to the future, where he can waste away on his own. Just tell me how to make you happy.”

 

“Tarn,” Pharma turned his helm, watching his tank with indulgent desire, “come closer.”

He obeyed, seemingly no longer concerned about appearance, about power between them, about not giving Pharma his fantasy future. How ironic that it took a rival in the form of himself to propel Tarn to such compliance. Pharma couldn’t move between them, but he could press a kiss to the lips of his present Tarn, whilst holding onto his future.

“You both  _ know  _ how to make me happy. I don’t want to miss out on an inch of either of you. I love you, Tarn.”

He directed it at them both, panel sliding open with clear invitation. He was pressed between two tanks and he loved every moment of it.

 

While his alternate was busy following the lure of Pharma’s lips, Tarn went for a different set. Eager fingers dove into Pharma’s valve, relishing the warmth, the heat, the aliveness of it. His alternate surfaced from his drawn out kiss with Pharma to growl.

“Get out of him.”

“He asked for it. Didn’t you, Pharma?”

Tarn twisted his wrist, finding a cluster of nodes deep in Pharma. He massaged it, while locking optics with his past self. “Afraid you’ll fall behind?”

“Shut up,” he snarled. His hands went to Pharma’s wings, stroking and rubbing them as he bent down to press kisses along Pharma’s neck. 

Tarn huffed another chuckle in his direction as he played with Pharma’s valve, cooing more love confessions in his audials, praising how beautiful he was, how good he felt.

 

Fantasies didn’t even feel this good. Pharma was surrounded by needy fields and greedy fingers and he loved all of it. Tarn knew exactly how to touch him, how to make him moan. His nodes flared with sensation and his wings jittered under the now careful touch that had crumpled one of them earlier. Pharma leaned his helm back, allowing Tarn more access to his neckcables, affording him the trust not to crush them between his dentae. Primus knew he could. But today, Pharma was in the unique position of knowing exactly how far he could push Tarn. Nothing spurred him on like competition.

His calipers spiralled open, eager and impatient, but he didn’t demand anything more than the deft, wonderful digits already giving him fluttery bouts of charge. Maybe his adjustments would come into place today, and finally be of use. It certainly looked possible from his angle, perfectly suspended between future and present Tarn. Lubricant was gathering in his mouth, the stimulation from every angle almost too much.

“More...more, please, Tarn, please.”

 

Three years gave Tarn very little patience. Pharma’s pleas barely left his mouth before Tarn replaced his fingers with his spike, pushing in with a growl of delight. His alternate didn’t look pleased by the new development. Refusing to be left out, he reached in between them, ignoring the clash of his future self’s plating on his arm, and located Pharma’s anterior node. This he rubbed hard, ignoring the slick slide of the spike just below.

Still kissing Pharma,s neck, he followed his jaw and caught him in another deep kiss. His free hand danced all over, touching Pharma wherever he could reach. It still wasn’t enough.

Determined to one-up his future self, Tarn nipped Pharma’s audial. “Your spike,” he murmured, tapping where it should be.

 

His modifications helped keep Pharma’s array from damage thanks to Tarn’s impatience. He felt deliriously good, dazed almost by the sensations. He barely heard the request, already missing Tarn’s lips against his own. He obeyed as mindlessly as Tarn had earlier, sliding back the cover of his own spike, which was rarely, rarely used. Mostly blue, it looked alien between Tarn’s dark planting. 

Whatever plans Tarn had for him, Pharma was good with, because this was potentially the greatest moment of his life. Tarn filled him so deeply, and yet it was not uncomfortable. His calipers clenched only for a moment, still room to spiral open further.

 

He left Pharma’s wing alone to grab his spike instead. Dipping his hand against Pharma’s valve for fluid to slick up his palm, Tarn ran his hand down Pharma’s spike. It wasn’t foreign -- he’d done this, with himself, plenty of times -- but it felt different to do it to Pharma. He felt different.

Touching the patterns around it, feeling its length and girth, Tarn sent a challenging look at his future self. He growled back, still thrusting into Pharma despite the two hands between them. One was busily rubbing Pharma’s node, while the other continued to explore. It pumped once, twice, before drifting up to explore the tip.

Pharma mewled, entirely enthralled with the dual sensation of his valve and spike in use. Tarn had never touched it before, probably didn’t even know what it looked like, let alone how much Pharma would like him to pay attention to it. There’d always been more reason to use his valve, and one of them was thrusting into him right now. Pharma held onto whichever Tarn felt closest, no regulation to the volume of his noises. 

“Yes, so good, Tarn-!” He grabbed for future Tarn’s face again, biting his lips as he kissed him, though he couldn’t stay there for long, turbine whining loudly as his engine turned over.

Working a servo down into the mess of limbs surrounding his array was hard work, but Pharma managed. Groping blindly until he found an array yet to be uncovered, he scraped his fingers over it demandingly.

“I want you too.”

 

“What?” Tarn’s array opened, because when Pharma asked for  _ that _ , he couldn’t deny him, “He’s already in you.” He resented that fact, thank you very much.

From behind Pharma, his spike pressurized, pressing up to his aft. Tarn was still touching his array, while his future self bent down to kiss Pharma again, more wet sounds emerging from between them.

 

The kiss disrupted Pharma’s concentration, his moans trapped between lips and glossa. When it ended, messily, he could continue his gentle guidance, having to strain his brain module capable of unlocking the modifications. 

“I can take it,” he murmured, a pleased grin spreading on his lips. This was definitely going to be burned into his memory banks for the rest of time. Tarn was everywhere, devoted to him, wanting him, and Pharma had never felt safer, or more alive.

“I made some, hah, changes.”

His featherlight touch on the second thick spike lead it to where Pharma was already stretched around the first. Now, his calipers spiralled open to their new calibration, his mesh expanding further inside, making the fit almost loose around future Tarn.

 

Tarn almost slipped out when he felt Pharma suddenly expand around him. “What the…?”

Pharma looked pleased, however, so he probably knew what he was doing. He felt something nudge his spike and a quick glance down revealed his alternate’s spike trying to inch in between his. “You’re going to hurt, Pharma, idiot,” he hissed, holding the medic protectively.

“He asked for it,” his alternate shot back. His spike grew closer, now flush with Tarn’s, and the tip breached Pharma’s outermost ring of calipers. His alternate moved slowly, thankfully, but even with the added space, it was a tight fit. Tarn held still to make the job easier, even reaching down to rub along Pharma’s outer lining to help coax him open.

The tip went in. Then came the ridges. From this position, Tarn could see how they slowly entered Pharma, each ridge stretching Pharma’s valve as the mesh stretched to fit over it. Then it eased down, but there was still more to go. It was a slow process and his alternate sometimes paused when something inside Pharma resisted, needing Tarn’s fingers to ease in around the two spikes and give him the leeway needed to keep moving.

There was a gush of transfluid as his alternate got halfway in, welling around both their spikes. The wetness helped only a little for the last bits. Here, the ridges were thickest and Pharma’s valve kept out the last few inches, no matter how Tarn and his alternate tried.

“Relax,” Tarn said, rubbing the outside of his valve. “You need to relax, love.”

“For once, I agree,” his alternate rumbled back. He hadn’t moved his hands away from Pharma’s node or spike, still playing with both as he peppered kisses down Pharma’s neck.

“ _ Maybe he needs extra help _ ?”

“ _ Relax, Pharma. _ ”

 

It was more than Pharma had bargained with, going into this situation. Every tiny movement pressed on his nodes so tightly he could overload just from this sensation alone. He’d never been this full, even when Tarn went in somewhat unprepared. The feeling of almost splitting open was on the verge of pain, but also more enticing than he expected. His servos clung uselessly to Tarn, his mind too blurry with delirious pleasure to understand whom he was holding onto. His vents blew open, sucking in air and expelling steam. Even with the gush of transfluid, it was an impossibly tight fit.

When their voices, mingled as one, coaxed him further, Pharma couldn’t stand any more, his first overload, overdue by now, rolling through him with force. He wailed his pleasure, and the two spikes had not even moved an inch. Every sensory node was flaring, but Pharma’s greed didn’t end. He wanted them both to frag him to oblivion, until staying online was no longer an option. His calipers were at their maximum limit, unable to clasp or hold anything, pressed hard back into his over-sensitized mesh. 

 

Feeling Pharma twitch around their spikes in a familiar way, they both watched him overload hungrily. He was always gorgeous when he overloaded. It came and passed, leaving Pharma leaned against his alternate’s chest as he vented hard. He was split open obscenely wide, valve  swollen and pretty around their twin spikes.

“Hold on,” he told his alternate. Leaning a little, he swiped something off the floor. Pharma’s medical tools had been blown off his trays with his entrance, and the recorder on the floor gave him an idea.

“Now.”

His alternate, for once, didn’t argue. Pharma’s overload relaxed him enough for the last bits of spike to completely enter him. More transfluid seeped down, staining all of their plating. There was a snap as Tarn took a picture.

“Keepsake for your Pharma,” he said in response to his alternate’s questioning glance.

The recorder set aside for now, they began to try to move. It took some effort to find a rhythm that worked for both of them. Eventually, they settled on a slightly out of sync motion -- giving them leverage and rubbing their spikes against each other with delicious friction. With each thrust, they bumped into Pharma’s ceiling node, ridges entering and leaving Pharma at the same time.

“ _ Overload for me _ ,” Tarn crooned, “ _ Again and again, love, until you forget your name _ .”

His first overload had barely left him, but Tarn gave him no time to indulge or recover. There were two massive spikes, thrusting and pulling and stretching him in a way Pharma would never forget. The cluster and his nodes were frantically trying to relay the pressure and friction, his brain no longer trying to regulate what the adequate response to all of this sensory input was. 

And that voice. 

How could he ever disobey that voice? The sparkling didn’t shield him from it now, observational enough to know this was no bad influence on his carrier’s spark. It radiated approval warmly to every spark it was connected to.

Pharma couldn’t keep up with this without becoming ridiculously overheated. He moaned, almost weakly, as Tarn’s voice lulled him into another overload, even if the previous one had ended mere seconds ago. His field was a flaring mess, his frame covered in fluids, his vents pumping out blasts of searing heat instead of mere warm air.

Primus, he couldn’t handle it. 

As long as those spikes moved, he lost all semblance of control and his mind to the mecha working to please him.

 

Tarn kissed him sloppily, indulging in the feeling of having Pharma in his arms again. Behind him, his alternate was venting heavily, supporting Pharma’s limp frame as charge jumped between all three of them. 

“How much more can we push you?” Tarn whispered, “How many overloads can we pull from you, in a row? How much would you scream?”

“You’re mine,” his alternate murmured into Pharma’s other audial, “You belong to me.”

 

This had to be real, because Pharma’s wildest fantasies could not have cobbled together a scenario like this. Charge still bounced around his circuits, fluid leaked onto the frames beneath him, his valve twitching and shuddering around the two invading spikes.

Was he supposed to be capable of giving an answer? He pushed his muddy, murky mess of thoughts to the side, purely reacting to his need to indulge in this unique opportunity.

“Prove it,” he whispered for his present Tarn, turning to kiss him briefly but abandoning him shortly after to kiss his future self, “I want you to keep going. I haven’t forgotten my name just yet.”

 

“ _ Overload _ ,” Tarn said. His alternate echoed it, driving their spikes into Pharma together. He should’ve broken under this combined assault, but only seemed to thrive.

“ _ There will never be anyone else. No one can compare. Each time you ache, each dent, each time you touch yourself, you will see only me _ .”

“ _ I love you. You love me. You will never love anyone else, like this. Only us. _ ”

“ _ We will bond. And you will know what I think when I see you, when I touch you. The obsession. _ ”

_ “You’re mine. No one can have you. You will always belong to me. Mine. _ ”

Their voices blended into each other, their powers mingling as the low notes vibrated through the air, stroking Pharma’s spark in long, greedy touches. 

From one audial to the next, they whispered.

_ “Mine.” “Mine.” _

Future and past blended into one voice, raw and full of boundless potential for addiction absolute.

_ “I love you _ .”

 

Each word spoken spiralled Pharma’s spark to a higher degree of charge, obeying the command for overload, and not allowing it to dissipate. Between both Tarn’s frames, spikes, voices, hands and promises, Pharma could do nothing but bask in their love. It was greater than the fantasy of a subservient, world-destroying Tarn who worshipped at his pedes. Pharma’s perpetual fear of being alone, helpless, melted away permanently. With Tarn, he finally belonged. And Tarn wanted him to. Was there ever a time he had felt more complete? He couldn’t recall feeling incomplete before, but now it was so glaringly obvious what he had compensated for with deceit, lies and underhanded deals.

Everything felt glorious, the stretch of his valve, the calm race of his spark, the complete absence of doubt from his mind. Tarn was no longer playing. Tarn really loved him, and would care for him, and would kill anything that threatened Pharma. It would be better than perfect, living as a Decepticon now.

All of this was dissolved in a viscous wave of pleasure that rolled through him one last time, sweeping every system to the very heights of their capabilities, before bringing Pharma down, crashing into recharge because there was no form in which he could recover from all of this without a shutdown.

This time when his optics flickered offline, there was nothing grey about his vibrant colours. His spark pulsed with contentment, sated.

 

“...did he go to recharge  _ again _ ?”

“I think he did.” Tarn peered at Pharma, checking on him. The jet looked perfectly happy, filled and wet as he was. Slowly, Tarn pulled out, ignoring the gush of transfluid between their legs. He pressed one last kiss on Pharma before slowly standing, cable kinks creaking.

“I think I should go.”

“Now?”

“He’ll wake up eventually. And you can get your overloads in then.”

His alternate peered at him. “What are you doing?”

“Me? I’m going to my future, to ‘face my Pharma.”

He hefted the timecase, sending one last kick and a warning -- “Treat him right.” -- before he was gone in a flash of light.

 

The medibay was still dark when he returned to it and minus the turbulence of his arrival, quiet. No one was here, just as it was when Tarn left on his dubious adventure. The entire ship seemed not to have noticed his absence. 

But someone had. Mainly, because Pharma could feel the jump in time in spark when his mate was suddenly wrenched away into an abyss he couldn’t follow. Panic had been far from his mind. Instead, he had unearthed an old recorder, which held an image that was a very, very vivid memory in his mind. Himself, taking on the challenge of two massive, dark spikes, obviously belonging to the pair of Tarns that surrounded him from every angle. He’d kept quiet about it, waiting. Waiting for Tarn to remember. Three years of keeping a secret from the mech he’d shared his spark with were strenuous indeed, but worth it. 

Careful not to disturb the grown sparkling in his chest, he sat up on the berth, watching the door expectantly. When it took longer than anticipated, he warmed his array, ran his delicate servos over his valve exterior, just in case. He knew Tarn had been voraciously aroused back then after Pharma woke from his deserved recharge. Shortly after, he had demanded they bond, so that a merge of their sparks would never again hold the risk of killing him.

Finally, he felt the return. A short little burst of happiness from his spark at the renewed connection and Pharma sent Tarn a silent longing.

There was a flood of light as Tarn returned to his timeline. Everything looked as it should be, however…

_ There! _

A tug on his spark, as reality aligned itself, and he felt the flood of Pharma’s presence from his sparkling. It pulsed, happy, and Tarn dashed from the medibay, running to where their room was supposed to be. His footsteps echoed loudly through the ship, but Tarn didn’t care.

He threw the door open. “Pharma!”

 

Pharma looked up when the door practically flew open, the frame of it filled with Tarn’s dark shape. One that Pharma held very dear. He smiled for his commander, his lover, the sire of his sparkling. Still on their shared berth, he sat up a little more so that Tarn could see him, though his optics never strayed away from the medic anyway.

“I’m here. I’ve been waiting for you to come back to me.”

 

Joy burst from Tarn’s spark. He stepped through the door, dazed, and kicked it close behind him. It took four steps to get to the berth, and he fell on it, tugging Pharma closer. Checked him, touching his frame and face to make sure he was there.

“You’re alive,” Tarn said softly. “You’re alive. I can feel you. You’re mine, and you’re  _ alive _ .”

 

“I’m yours, I’m here.”

This was a pleasant kind of avalanche to be buried under as Tarn pulled him close, grip impossibly careful. It was a world of difference from the first day they met to this, but somehow they made it out all for the better. Together. Undoubtedly so as their spark connection proved. Although it was a little...burdened. Not in a bad way. Pharma cocked his helm to the side, leaning forward to press a kiss to Tarn’s scars.

“You’re...carrying too. I...this is unexpected.” He wrapped his arms around Tarn’s neck, indulgently kissing every bit of derma he could reach.

 

He pressed a hand to his chest. “He’s… from you. From the first timeline. You died and he… didn’t.”

Sorrow went through him again. He’d lost his first Pharma. At least, he had a second chance this time. “I love you,” he said, grabbing Pharma by the waist. He kissed him, touching every inch of his frame. “I missed you so much. I wanted to  _ die _ .”

 

Pharma kept his marvel at the sparkling’s persistence through time changes to himself. There was no need to question it. The sparkling was fine, Tarn was fine, and so was he and his own passenger. Their family unit had just expanded by another Outlier offspring, but Pharma doubted that would be anything but a bonus. He smoothed his servos over Tarn’s face when it returned to level with with his own.

“I would call you dramatic, but I know that it is true. When we bonded...I saw. I saw the pain you showed to your past...I won’t allow it to happen again. You’re  _ mine too, _ Tarn. Never forget it.”

 

“Come here.” Tarn kissed Pharma’s frame, from the layers of his chest armor to his thighs, purring heavily while he did so. Everything about him felt correct. Warm and compatible, smooth and alive.

Tarn burrowed into the berth, wrapping around Pharma as snugly as possible. “If I ‘face you now, will you go to sleep again?”

 

“Only if you use your voice to overload me to oblivion.” Pharma chuckled, happy to have Tarn be this clingy. He’d been waiting a long time for this night, and he was doubly prepared to give Tarn all the reassurance in the world that he was alive, here, and as promised, at Tarn’s side. He would never leave this mech, that much he did know. All those years of fear, of the games played between them, the delicate balance between loathing and loving Tarn...they lead to this. Pharma deserved their happiness, and now, so did Tarn.


End file.
